Seduction (29 page)

I
T
WAS
A
BEAUTIFUL
DAY
to be out and about, Julianne thought as she sat in the back of a small curricle driven by one of Dominic’s coachmen. She smiled and admired the bracelet on her right wrist. It glinted with fire as she held it up to the sun. Dominic had given her diamonds, and now, her worries seemed inconsequential. She was in love, her heart soaring impossibly, and maybe, just maybe, he felt as she did.

She was on her way to Hyde Park. Dominic had not been in when she had finally finished dressing and gone downstairs. She would have to thank him later.

Hyde Park was ahead. She had sent a note to Warlock requesting a meeting, but she had yet to hear back from him—giving her some relief and a small respite. She had impulsively decided to enjoy the day while she could. She had intended to walk, but Lady Paget had been on her way out at the same time as Julianne. She had insisted that she use the curricle.

Julianne’s smile faded. When Lady Paget had walked into the entry tower, Julianne had been at the door. She hadn’t even had to think about it—she had pulled her sleeve down over her bracelet, to hide it from the Dowager Countess. She could imagine how caustic Lady Paget would be when she realized what Dominic had done.

And then the Dowager Countess had mentioned that there would be guests for supper and the usual evening attire was required. Julianne had been stupefied. She had just been invited to Catherine’s dinner party.

The curricle was moving through the imposing iron gates of the park’s Knightsbridge entrance and Julianne leaned forward. “I am going to walk for a bit, Eddie.”

The young coachman pulled the curricle over, as several carriages and gigs were on the path, halting it so she could alight. Julianne walked up to her driver. “You don’t have to wait. It is a lovely afternoon and I am going to enjoy every moment of it.”

“The Dowager Countess told me to wait, Miss Greystone,” Eddie returned.

And Julianne found that odd, as well, but perhaps Lady Paget was doing as her son had asked—perhaps she was trying to give Julianne a chance. She smiled at him and started down a nearby walking path. She was hardly alone. Several pairs of ladies were strolling, as were two couples and a gentleman.

It felt as if it were the most beautiful day she had ever witnessed.

She was smiling when she bumped into the gentleman. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” Julianne cried, meeting a pair of pale blue eyes. She had been so distracted, and in such a reverie, that she had walked right into him.

“Are you all right…Miss Greystone?” he asked. He was tall, lanky, with almost white-blond hair and a large, crooked nose.

Perplexed, she met the gentleman’s light blue gaze. “I am fine. Do I know you, sir?”

He slowly smiled, and it sent a chill down her spine. “No, but I know you and I thought you would you like to know how Tom Treyton is faring.”

Her heart lurched. The force was sickening.

“There, there.” He took her arm and wrapped it in his. “I did not mean to startle you, Miss Greystone.”

“Who are you? We have not met, I am certain.” She tried to tug her arm free but he would not allow her to do so, and she was truly alarmed.

“You may call me Marcel.”

She inhaled, seized with fear.
Marcel was Tom’s Jacobin contact in Paris.
But this man was English. Still, surely this was not a coincidence. “What do you want?”

His smile was cold. “I want to help you. And you want to help Tom.”

An Englishman in the heart of London was working for the French government. “Of course I want to help Tom. How is he? Has he been charged yet?”

“He will be charged with treason by the end of the week, Miss Greystone.”

Her heart now sank with equally sickening force. Was this even true? Warlock had never said any such thing. “What do you want of me?”

“I am someone who can help your friend—if you help me.”

With dread, she asked, “How can I possibly help you?”

His smile vanished. “There are plans to resupply the La Vendée royalists. I must know them.”

“I can hardly help you!”

“Bedford has those plans, my dear. And we both know you have the best chance of discovering them.”

Horror began. He wanted her to spy on Dominic?

“Bedford is returning to France shortly,” Marcel said bluntly. “I must know the date of the convoy’s rendezvous with the royalists, and the exact location before he leaves and takes that information with him.”

Julianne was in more shock. Dominic was returning to France? She did not believe it!

He added, “I believe he is leaving within the week, so you must work swiftly. And of course, you may feel free to convey any other useful information you come across that will help us in our efforts to win this war against the revolution.”

She would never spy on Dominic! She knew her cheeks were red, for they were burning. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

He slowly smiled. “We both know that he is a British agent, Miss Greystone, and that you are a Jacobin—an active one. We both know you are sharing his bed. It shouldn’t be terribly difficult for you to go through his desk and his personal effects, to find what we are looking for. And if that search does not yield the information we need, I am sure you can cajole the information directly from him.”

She could not breathe now. “I will not spy on him.”

“Then Treyton will hang—and I will make sure he is the first of the three hundred to swing.” His pale blue gaze burned.

She cried out. Her frenzied mind raced. She would work for Warlock to avoid spying on Dominic. She would tell her uncle everything. Surely, he would protect Tom.

As if he could read her very thoughts, the man said, “You will not tell anyone of this conversation, Miss Greystone. Not your lover, not your brother and not your uncle. I can make your life very difficult—and I can easily do the same for Treyton.”

She stared at him, thinking. If she learned who he really was, Warlock or Lucas or Dominic could arrest him.

“Think of it this way, Miss Greystone. We are already watching Bedford night and day, thanks to you. What is one more betrayal?”

“You bastard,” she said.

“You are aiding a great cause, which you are devoted to, and you will prevent your dear friend from hanging. Well? Have I convinced you to aid
La Republique?
”

She nodded, praying he would not discern that she was lying.

His eyes narrowed. “Time is not on our side. I will contact you again in two days. Make sure you have something for me.”

She did not move. She had to find out where he could be reached. “What if I can obtain the information sooner? How can I reach you?”

He slowly smiled. “You can’t.”

She inhaled, stricken. How could she turn him in to Dominic, if they couldn’t find him to arrest him? “If you hurt Tom in any way, I will not help you.”

“Oh, you will do exactly as I have said. Aren’t there two helpless women living at Greystone Manor?”

She froze.

“Isn’t your mother an invalid? And your dear sister—what is her name? Oh, yes, it is Amelia. She is the older one, is she not? A committed spinster? It amazes me that two women would reside by themselves in such a remote location. If there were a problem, oh, say a fire in the house, or the advent of outlaws and thieves, or even an abduction, there isn’t a single neighbor for them to turn to. I cannot comprehend leaving two women alone to fend for themselves in such a dangerous time.”

“Are you threatening my sister and my mother?” Julianne managed.

“Yes, I am. If you do not do exactly as I say, one or both women will suffer the consequences. And if you need proof, I can dispatch my men to make an example of your mother. Just so you know that I am very serious, indeed.”

Julianne cried out. She said hoarsely, “Do not hurt them. I will do what you want.”

“Have a good day, Miss Greystone,” he said. He bowed and walked away.

Julianne watched him go, beyond fear.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

J
ULIANNE
STARED
AT
THE
dark, empty hearth in the fireplace, seated upon a chaise in her bedchamber. It was several hours later, and Julianne had spent the afternoon in a state of horror. There was a French agent in Britain, and he wanted her to spy on Dominic. And now, Tom’s fate did not hang alone in the balance. If she did not obey, he would hurt her mother or Amelia.

This was far worse than what Warlock had demanded of her. She did not know what to do. Her first impulse had been to write Amelia and warn her of the danger, but she was certain she was being watched—after all, Marcel was spying on Dominic. Such an exercise would be futile; her letter would be intercepted. And she did not want to anger Marcel.

She didn’t dare go to Warlock, Lucas, Jack or Dom. They wouldn’t be able to act decisively against him because she had no way of directing them to him.

She felt the tears arise. She was in over her head and she knew it!

She was going to have to spy on Dominic, she thought with a shrinking sensation, to protect her mother and her sister.

“Good afternoon.”

Julianne flinched, not having heard Dominic open the door to her bedroom. She quickly rearranged her expression and smiled at him, getting to her feet.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his smile fading.

Her instinct was to tell Dominic everything—because Marcel was Dominic’s enemy, he meant him harm, and Dominic was unaware of it.

But she couldn’t say anything. And while she might hurt the rebellion in La Vendée, she wasn’t directly hurting Dominic, while she was protecting Amelia and her mother. She was even helping Tom.

“I love my bracelet,” she whispered.

“Is that why you are crying?” Perplexed, he walked over to her.

She nodded, the tears swiftly rising. She was ready to weep in his arms.

“You are so upset,” Dominic exclaimed, taking her into his embrace.

Julianne clung to him. “I love you,” she whispered, against his chest.

He drew back, surprised.

She stared up at him, having no intention of retracting her words.

“What happened, Julianne?” he asked quietly.

“You gave me diamonds!” she cried, smiling through her tears. “I am undone.”

He smiled back, but she saw that he remained confused. “You have asked me if I care, and I wanted to make an unequivocal statement.”

She slipped free of his embrace and walked away to find her composure. If she did not, he would realize something was truly amiss.

He said softly, “I just spoke with D’Archand.”

She whirled in surprise.

He smiled a little. “It actually went very well. He was not surprised, and as Nadine and I have mutually agreed to end things, he was amicable.”

His engagement was officially over.
But did it even matter now? For suddenly she realized that if Dominic ever found out what she was about to do, he would never speak with her again. And then there was the terrible fact that he was returning to France—to the war and revolution there. “Did you warn him last night about Marcel?”

“Yes, I did. What is really bothering you, Julianne?”

He was so astute, she thought nervously, she had to be careful. He must never learn that she had spied upon him, if she managed to succeed in such an attempt. So she smiled at him, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. “I want to thank you for the diamond bracelet,” she murmured, and she kissed him.

He started as she feathered his mouth with her own, and then he kissed her back. Within moments, their mouths were fused, and his hands were roaming down her back. Julianne let her mind go blank. God, she had never needed him more. She had never loved him more.

He broke the heated kiss. “If I did not know better, I’d think you were attempting to distract me.”

She breathed, “Make love to me.”

His eyes widened. “We are due downstairs in two hours—”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes blazed, and suddenly she was in his arms, and he was carrying her to the canopied bed. As he laid her down, he said, “There is something I must say first.”

She clasped his jaw. “Then hurry and speak your mind.”

“Eager wench!” But his smile faded. He sat down by her hip. “Julianne…I love you, too.”

J
ULIANNE
HESITATED
on the bottom of the stairs. She could hear animated conversation, the strains of a harp and the tinkling of glass. Her heart was thundering now.

A mirror was across the hall and she was reflected in it. She didn’t even recognize the woman reflected there. She was staring at a pale, elegant stranger.

Dominic had sent her a stunning ensemble for the occasion: a silver silk evening gown, with cap sleeves, a low-cut bodice and full, draped skirts. It was lavishly embroidered and intricately beaded, the underskirts darker, and beaded with ebony stones. She also wore a magnificent ruby-red wig adorned with lace and pearls. She had never been so exquisitely and expensively dressed before, and she doubted she would ever be as well dressed again.

He loved her and he trusted her. She was about to violate that love, that trust.

Julianne could see into the grand salon. It was exactly as she had imagined, with its gilded furniture, its crystal chandeliers and its masterpieces. Now, it was filled with guests as elegantly dressed as she was. She saw Lady Paget, who was wearing crimson, and a dozen other ladies in their jewels and evening gowns. The gentlemen were all wearing their finest evening coats, satin breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes. Most of the men wore white, powdered wigs.

She saw Dominic.

Her heart lurched hard, first with love and then with dread. If he ever learned of her actions, he would never forgive her.

He was wearing an embroidered navy blue velvet coat, French lace cuffs spilling from its sleeves and cascading from its collar. He also wore tan satin breeches and beige stockings. His wig matched his own hair color exactly. He had never seemed as elegant, as noble or as magnificent. She loved him so completely, exactly as he was, and she could not imagine him as anyone other than Bedford or anything other than a Tory.

He is not for you… Trust me on that....

She did not want to recall Lucas’s words, but he was right, even more so than he had imagined. She started forward. Then she faltered. Nadine stood with Dominic and they were chatting.

Dismay arose. She did not fight it. Nadine was a warm, generous and beautiful woman, and she was an aristocrat. They cared deeply for one another, and they were perfect for one another— Nadine would never spy on him. In that moment, Julianne felt as if she had a crystal ball and could see directly into it.

Dominic would learn of her treachery one day—and he would turn to the other woman. He would marry Nadine after all, and live happily ever after....

Dominic had seen her. His eyes widened and he started across the salon, smiling. Somehow, Julianne managed to smile back.

Dominic surprised her by taking her hand and kissing it warmly. “Why are you standing out here? I didn’t see you.”

He had never openly displayed his affection before. “I am sorry that I am late.”

“I’m not. You have never been lovelier. I must take you to more supper parties.”

She met his warm gaze and realized she wished for nothing more. How she wished there was no damn war, how she wished for an ordinary life. “I am certain that can be arranged,” she managed, an impossible lie.

“You aren’t wearing the bracelet,” he said.

“How can I? If anyone sees it, he or she will know it was a gift from you, and there will be one conclusion to draw.”

“That I am smitten?” He smiled.

She felt her heart racing. “That I am ruined.”

“You happen to be right. I will get you something more discreet,” he said, taking her arm in his.

He meant it, she realized with more dismay.

“Shall I introduce you around? It is my pleasure to do so.” His smile faded. “We are being remarked.”

Julianne felt her heart slam. Warlock stood with a dark, attractive, resplendently dressed man, and both men were staring at her. “Warlock is here.” Terrible tension arose, but then, he had said in his note that he would speak to her that night. “And who is that?”

“He is with Nadine’s father, the Comte D’Archand,” he said. “Are you all right? You seem on edge.”

“I am fine.” And as she spoke, she saw Nadine detaching herself from her group to approach, a pleasant smile on her face. Julianne could not imagine a conversation with her now, but Nadine paused before them.

“Good evening, Miss Greystone. You are certainly the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

Surprised, Julianne started. The compliment seemed genuine. “Thank you, but I doubt that. It is a splendid assembly, is it not?” she tried, desperate to make small talk.

Nadine lay her gloved hand on Julianne’s arm. “I did not come over to distress you.”

“I am fine,” she said, for the second time. If she did not find her composure, she would have to plead a migraine and leave. As if sensing her vulnerability, Dominic lay his hand on her shoulder. She leaned back, against him.

“Nor did I come over to casually converse. I want to thank you for warning my family of the danger we are in,” Nadine said, her gaze direct and searching.

Julianne glanced at Dominic. “You told her?”

“Yes, I did.”

Nadine took her hand. “I owe you, Miss Greystone, and apparently, I have misjudged you.”

Feeling ill, she said, “You hardly owe me.”

Nadine said simply, “I always pay my debts.” She smiled at them both and moved on.

“I knew you would both, eventually, begin to like one another,” Dominic said, sounding pleased.

Before she could respond, she realized that Lady Paget was approaching. Julianne fixed a smile on her face.

The Dowager Countess smiled back. “Good evening, Miss Greystone. I am so delighted you have joined us. Your gown is simply stunning—it suits you.”

Julianne was incredulous.

“I
MUST
SAY
, J
ULIANNE
,
I am intrigued.” Sebastian Warlock sauntered into the music room, where Julianne was waiting for him.

It was half past eleven in the evening now. Supper had been interminable, as it consisted of a dozen courses. Tension filled her now as Julianne followed him inside. “Maybe we should close the door, so no one notices us?”

“That is not a good idea,” he said casually. “If we were found behind closed doors, people would jump to the wrong conclusions.”

“They would think we are carrying on? You are my uncle!”

“I doubt they would think we are carrying on—but they might wonder at what business we are concluding. Play for me,” he said, smiling.

He was so very clever, she thought, staring at him.

“Your feelings are written all over your face, my sweet little niece.”

Then he knew she despised him, she thought, sitting down on the piano bench. “I have warned Jack about you.”

A dark brow arose. “Really? I like Jack and I am very fond of Lucas. They both like me. I imagine he dismissed your warnings as mere ranting.”

“One day, they will both realize that you are an amoral, self-serving bastard.”

“Oh, ho! You have a way with words, which I admire. And what a temper! But I am not surprised. Your mother had a temper, too.”

She stared in surprise. “My mother?” Her mother was the mildest mannered person she knew.

“Yes, she did, but that was long ago, when she was a spoiled debutante, accustomed to always having her way.” He pulled a music chair over and sat on it. “Do you play?”

“I haven’t played in years.” She posed her hands over the keyboard, her heart racing. How dare he speak of her mother that way. “You never visit her.”

“She doesn’t remember me.”

Julianne struck a chord, rather rudely. He winced. “You should visit her—you should visit Amelia. She is your
other
niece.” She began playing a sonata by Handel, surprised that she still knew it by heart.

She was so worried, but the music swept her away. It flooded every part of her being, filling her as water did an urn. It had been so long....

As the rich chords vibrated, he said, “I take it you have agreed to my proposal?”

“I am still considering it.” She swept her hands up and down the keys, breathless now, as he started in displeasure. Feeling a sense of satisfaction, she ended with a series of deeper, powerful chords, which resonated through the room.

Warlock seized her right wrist abruptly. “I beg your pardon?”

She slowly looked up at him. “You must do something for me first.”

“What courageous ploy is this?”

She shook off his hand and stood. “Free Tom and I will then spy on whomever you want.”

She was lying through her teeth. She doubted he would agree. But if he did, she would have one less pawn to worry about.